Adam is still alive. With every day comes more hope. We have been told the thing we have to fear the most is brain swelling. It normally will begin around the 3rd day if it's going to happen. It has begun. The monitor in his head is showing an increase in brain pressure. They drill yet another hole through the skull to insert another brain monitor. This is a different type of monitor that will give them more information. Adam is moved from the surgical ICU on the 2nd floor to the neuro ICU on the 4th floor. The 4th floor waiting room is now our home. In the midst of all the chaos and tension in an ICU waiting room, my world was very small. Everything I am and everything I care about was in a bed down the hall fighting for his life. I didn't notice anything else around me. A tsunami had destroyed a region and had killed thousands of people. I knew nothing about this tsunami. All I knew was that I wanted my son to live. That was my entire world. Adam's appearance was changing. His eyes now looked like purple eggs. His face was swollen. His kidneys were not functioning fully so his entire body is swelling with all the fluids they are pumping in him. The sight of him is too much to take in, so I concentrate on his eyebrows. I stand by his bed and look at his eyebrows because they look the same. There is a small freckle just in front of his right ear. It is still there and unchanged. I look at his eyebrows and this one freckle. I don't see the horror of his declining appearance. I'm wondering when God is going to perform his miracle. The brain wave monitor shows brain activity. I am encouraged. When I sing to him the monitor registers an increase in activity. I sing to him often. He doesn't move. The only sign of a response is the beeping of a monitor. Brain pressure should be 0. His is teetering around 10. They are concerned. They describe a surgery they might have to do. It will only be done as a last resort to save his life. We are not there yet. I go to the chapel. I have spent so much time on my knees since I got that initial phone call what feels like a lifetime ago. I'm so scared. The fear is all consuming. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I am still begging God for a miracle. God is silent.